


Love Like a Flower

by TheKeeper_of_TheSmut



Series: Hanahaki AU [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut/pseuds/TheKeeper_of_TheSmut
Summary: Hanahaki Disease- the person afflicted coughs up flower petals when they lose a loved one. Through death, drifting apart, or unrequited love. No two people cough up the same flower and each flower has a different meaning.Oswald finds himself coughing up petals one night and realizes he loves Edward, but he's convinced it's unrequited, but he decides to confess anyway, because if it's not then they can be happy.Ed meets Isabella and things are going great. Until his best friend kills her. So now Oswald has to die, there's only one small problem, he's started coughing up flowers. But hanahaki disease is a myth right? Just because there's a whole medical journal about it doesn't mean anything, and it certainly doesn't mean anything that he only started coughing after he shot Oswald.





	1. Oswald

Oswald settles under the covers in his room at the Van Dahl Manor. In the room across from his Edward Nygma is fast asleep, body and mind exhausted after enduring the hell of Arkham Asylum. Ed hadn't talked much about his experience in there, other than he was bored and feared his sharp wit and intelligence would slip into the sterile white void of the Asylum. Dulled by drugs and constant interaction with simpletons.

Oswald was just relieved no _therapy,_ if it could be called that, had been administered to his dear friend. The thought of Ed's personality washing away with wave after wave of electrical torture has the shorter man's gut clenching and stirs a protective flame in him. He ponders checking on the other, but wouldn't want to wake him up if he's managed to escape the nightmares that plagued Oswald upon release.

He's not sure when Ed became so dear to him, but it was definitely during Edward's incarceration. Oswald feels better knowing that the taller man is safe and away from the torment of that hellhole masquerading as a place of healing.

The tickling he's felt in his throat all week worsens. It's been coming and going for a while and Oswald was starting to think he’d have no choice other than go to a doctor, which he was loathe to do since his last experience with a doctor. Granted he was, _maybe_ , a psychiatrist and not a medical doctor.

Still, he’d rather avoid doctors for a while. Oswald coughs lightly, hoping to stop the tickling. He feels something catch in the back of his throat and coughs harder. Finally, whatever is lodged back there comes loose and Oswald watches, stunned, as pine needles and small reddish brown petals drift from between his lips.

That's not possible. This only happens if….but that's ridiculous. He's not in love with anyone. Wait, could it be? Platonic love was also a possibility. That had to be it! Of course, Ed was a dear friend, it made sense that he would love him. But Ed was often emotionally aloof and hard to read. Oswald thought he was getting better at understanding Ed and his oddities.

Perhaps he was wrong. This wouldn't happen if Ed loved him in any capacity. The thought hurt, but maybe Oswald was misunderstanding. Ed might love him and not know how to show it. Perhaps he should ask? No, better to wait this out.

*~*

Oswald was in his kitchen, frantically making tea for Edward. When suddenly he doubled over and coughed up an avalanche of pine needles and petals. After the election the amount of petals decreased since Ed had proved how much he cared. There was no need for Oswald to keep coughing up the small strange looking flowers. He’d discovered they came from a Thuja tree and represented everlasting friendship. The petals might not have been pretty to look at their meaning made up for it.

Now Oswald watched wide-eyed as white and pastel yellow and gold drifted into the mix. He recognized the honeysuckle immediately but not its meaning. And the other flower looked familiar but Oswald was unsure what it was. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until he'd brought Ed his tea.

Edward was no doubt in pain after that ape strangled him and Oswald needed to see to it he was well cared for. When he'd wrapped Ed in his arms and felt the taller man hesitantly return it the tickle in his throat lessened and he wanted to kiss the lanky man. Ed seemed so unsure of just returning a hug that Oswald feared he would push the other man away and he simply couldn't risk losing Edward's friendship. Not now, not when his heart was racing and he felt warm and happy. He hadn't felt this way since his mother died, yet somehow this was more.

Later that night, after Ed's promise to do anything for Oswald, he searched. White heather, protection, honeysuckle, devotion and bonds of love. Oswald smiled, stroking a petal with a fingertip. Yes, Oswald would do anything to protect Ed, to keep him safe. Tonight was proof he couldn't lose him.

Love, Oswald was in love. That's what that feeling was. That's why it was so much more. He resolved to tell Edward soon. Both because he deserved to know and so the annoying cough with its shower of petals and pine needles would vanish.

*~*

Oswald watched, heart aching, as Edward gushed about his upcoming date with Isabelle. He'd completely brushed aside Oswald's hint that he wanted Ed with him at the founders dinner. Ed plucked some invisible lint off Oswald's jacket, his meticulous nature and fretting leading him to fuss endearingly over his wardrobe.

Then he'd left to call this woman he barely knew but claimed to love. Oswald gave into the tickle in his throat and watched as a spray of brighter golden petals, daffodils, if what he remembered about his mother's flowerbox was right.

When he was young the splash of color at their dull windowsill had been a nice touch. The yellow color warm and sunny, like his mother. Now their meaning made him feel bitter.

 _Please love me. Unrequited love._ A plea to be noticed and loved in return. Unrequited. Is this how he is doomed to live. To cough up flowers for the rest of his lonely miserable life? A life without Ed?.

No, he refused. Isabelle had to go.

*~*

Strapped to the hood of a car was not how he planned to die. When the security man freed him Oswald sat for several moments. Shocked that Ed, his Edward, had done this. Had used his father against him.

He was right to be angry, he was right to want to get even with Oswald. But had he really deserved all this? Did Ed now truly despise him? Oswald curled into himself, feeling a sob work itself up his throat. But all that came out was red.

Red Dahlia, betrayal. Heartbreak. Briefly he wondered if this is how Ed felt, but Oswald dismissed that thought. For not a single petal had ever fallen from Ed's lips. And if he had loved her he would have. The loss of a loved one is always followed by hanahaki disease. Always. Until the one afflicted finishes the stages of grief. Ed hadn't even gotten through one and not a single petal.

What did that mean?

*~*

Oswald wanted to be angry. He acted like he was. Like all he wanted was to kill Edward. But he still coughed up petals, even as he sank bleeding into the harbor he had left a trail of petals. He was angry, at himself, at Ed, at love.

But he still loved him. And the tiny pink and white rose petals were all he  needed to confirm that he was doomed. He would always love Ed and Ed would never love him back. Hated him, in fact. He wanted to die, to end the constant coughing and petals and ache. A sickly burning feeling every time his heart beat. If he couldn't kill Ed and Ed would never love him back then what happens to them? Will Ed continue to take advantage of Oswald's feelings? Toying with him and manipulating him? What about others? Surely they would find out about his love for Ed. He couldn't let Ed keep getting hurt for his sake, especially not now when Ed wasn't willing to do anything for him anymore.

But he can't kill him. There has to be another way of making sure nothing ever hurts Edward again. And that Edward can never hurt him. There has to be a way because Oswald loves him, and he always will.


	2. Edward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed learns he doesn't know as much as he thinks, in more than one way.

He hadn't noticed it at the docks, the freezing rain left his body numb. Or at least that's what he told himself instead of the truth. That it wasn't shooting Oswald that had left him feeling empty and lost without a clear goal in mind.

He hadn't noticed the tickle in his throat on the way back to the manor either. But laying in Oswald's bed, in the pajamas Oswald bought him, he felt it. It was from being in the rain for so long. That's all. That was the only answer.

The feeling grew until he had to cough, a noise like thunder breaking the silence. As the noise faded out Ed stared with blank eyes at the single flower petal that drifted down onto the pillows.

Ed refused to believe it. It just simply couldn't be true. Hanahaki was a made-up illness or at the very least a metaphorical one. Surely people couldn't actually cough up flower petals. Never mind the fact that when he went to college there would been several medical, science, and philosophical classes dedicated to it.

Ed had never seen it and had never experienced it despite the many times Miss Kringle rejected him. And surely he had loved her. Wouldn't that count as unrequited love? Wouldn't he have coughed up flower petals if it was real. And maybe his infatuation with Miss Kringle had only been that, an infatuation, but he had certainly loved Isabella. And not a single petal had ever fallen from his lips after her untimely demise. Therefore it simply could not be real.

The fact that a single petal had drifted down from his mouth after a brief coughing fit meant nothing. It certainly didn't mean anything that it only happened after Oswald was gone. Because he didn't love Oswald, not romantically anyway. They had been close friends before Oswald had betrayed him, but that shouldn't make him cough up flower petals. Not that he was, because it wasn't real.

But it didn't stop and his curiosity got the best of him. A little digging and he found that any form of love could trigger hanahaki, so he supposes losing Oswald, his only friend would qualify.

Now to find out what the flowers meant. The first one he'd coughed up the night he returned home to an empty manor was Orange Mock. It meant deceit, which made sense, Oswald had deceived him. But the flower that followed it was confusing.

*~*

Aloe for grief and sorrow and he certainly wasn't upset or sorrowful over his deceit of Oswald, so therefore it had to mean he was sorrowful that Oswald had lied to him. It couldn't mean anything else. It certainly didn't mean he missed him or that he regretted what he did. Oswald had gotten what he deserved. But if that was true why did he feel so empty?

Bellwort for hopelessness. Ed stared down at the flower in disdain. How _dare_ it mock him and his indecision. It wasn't _his_ fault that everything was so confusing. But he wasn't hopeless! He could figure out who he was and what he was supposed to do. He didn't _need_ Oswald, he was his own person. He was fine before Oswald and despite what Oswald claimed on the docks he didn't need him. Except the more he thought about it the more it was true, Oswald had made him who he was.

Before Oswald he was a nobody getting walked all over and forgotten about; except for when it was convenient to others to remember he existed. After Oswald he had purpose, he had direction. He knew who he was and what he wanted to be, or he thought he did.

Without Oswald's death would have been content to stay in Oswald's shadow? Well by his side more accurately Oswald had always treated him as an equal. He'd been eager to praise Ed's efforts and ensure he received due credit for his hard work. Oswald had been the first person to appreciate all of Ed's quirks and his genius.

A fond smile tugged at his lips. And shortly after his chest wracked with coughs and he watched as multi-colored narrow petals drifted towards the floorboards. Zinnias for fond remembering and thoughts of an absent friend. How fitting.

*~*

After the, admittedly seductive, apparition of his friend disappeared Ed meant to storm out of the room and continue scheming. He was halted by an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. A wave of dread rolled through Ed's body as he snuck a glance downward.

Upon seeing what he had desperately hoped he wouldn't, he looked away. There was absolutely no way that he was... _aroused_ because of Oswald. He wasn't attracted to men. He wasn't attracted to Oswald. This wasn't happening.

But it was happening and his brain was unhelpfully looping the arch of his dead friends neck and his pink lips as they caressed each syllable of the song. His hand moved down to his zipper even as he tried to frantically replace the image of Oswald with Isabella.

Unfortunately his brain supplied him vivid memories of Oswald's form being hugged and accentuated by his tuxedo and the name Isabella ceased to hold any relevance while his hand feverishly worked below. He came with a loud cry that ended in a spray of flower petals.

Acacia. Concealed love. He had been denying himself too long. Not anymore.

*~*

This revelation about his attraction to his former friend led to many nights spent curled in the shorter man's bed with his fading scent in Ed's nose, and his fading voice in his ear, and his phantom touch on his cock.

The fifth night he did this he was starting to feel the effects of over using the drugs. The hallucination was less vivid and so Edward took more. And more. Until he the bottle was empty and Ed felt sick. But Oswald was here and kissing him. Telling him he loved him as he set to work rubbing Ed's dick.

And  Ed wanted to say it back. To hold Oswald close and kiss him softly and tell him how sorry he is and beg forgiveness. And Oswald would smile and everything would be ok and Ed would make love to him. Instead his hand around his erection slowed as Ed's vision went dark and the room spun.

“Maybe this will kill you. Then we can be together.”

The thought should have scared Ed. He could be dying of a drug overdose. But all he felt was happiness that maybe he would finally be with Oswald again.

Instead he wakes up with a massive headache, the taste of bile on his tongue, and a sea of Hyacinth. The flower used to beg forgiveness. But Oswald was dead and no chance of Ed earning his forgiveness.

*~*

Ed watched as the pills sank to the bottom of the harbor. Dissolving into nothing and leaving Ed totally alone except for the sweet-pea petals that drifted from his lips. A goodbye. Ed smiled and another coughing fit shook his body and the wind swept away the delicate pink and white petals.

*~*

Ed had been wrong about love and had come to terms with that. If he spent the rest of his empty existence coughing up petals then  he'd deserve it. He wasn't himself and he wasn't the Riddler. He was alone and desperate and lashing out blindly like a cornered animal.

He deserves it. So when he hears Oswald's voice coming down the hall towards his cage he thinks he's finally gone crazy. Except the next moment Oswald is being dragged in by one of the guards and tossed into a cage and he's here.

Alive. Real. And Ed feels the petals rise in his throat, threatening to choke him. But before he can express his elation he sees Oswald's face. Watches him lunge at him as if he can't wait to rip Ed apart.

It's what he deserves. To have killed not the man, but the love that had once been his. Now there was no love for him in Oswald. No petals to be shed.

Ed was tempted to let the petals choke him. So he antagonized him, played a game where he was a big bad predator preying on a weak little bird. But he knew, and he suspects Oswald does as well, who the real predator is. And it's not him.


End file.
